Blackjack

37

The streets were crowded with people moving about and enjoying the pleasant evening air as Virgil and I made our way up the block and a half to the Boston House. Virgil did not say anything as we walked, but I could tell there was something on his mind, there was something about Valentine Pell that bothered him.

“He really a friend of yours?”

Virgil walked a bit before he answered.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said.

“If it is him, if it is Valentine Pell,” I said, “you think he’s gonna be a problem of some sorts?”

“If it is him,” Virgil said, “he already is a problem.”

“Boston Bill Black has caused quite the stir.”

“Has.”

We got to the porch of the Boston House and started up the steps.

“Valentine a gun hand?” I said.

“He is.”

“Can he shoot?”

“He’s deadly,” Virgil said as he opened the door to the hotel.

There were three significant hotels now in Appaloosa, the Windsor being the quietest, the Colcord the plushest, and the Boston House the liveliest. It was the oldest hotel, too, and though it had changed hands a few times it still remained the most popular. The back room off the bar was still the only place in town where high-stakes gamblers of Appaloosa plied their trade, and with the growing city industry, the place was always full.

It was also the very reason Hollis Pritchard and Company had decided to build a gambling hall in Appaloosa. Pritchard was not shortsighted when it came to making money, and with the number of businesses cropping up in Appaloosa and the people needed to operate them, he knew a good bet when it presented itself and how to profit from investment.

The back room of the Boston House still consisted of ten poker tables, a billiard table, and a three-sided table used for throwing dice, and when Virgil and I walked in every table was in use and the cigar smoke was so thick the far wall was just slightly visible.

We stood looking around the room until Virgil spotted at the far corner table the big fella with the beard and wide hat with the flipped-back brim that Book described.

“That him?” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“By God,” he said.

Virgil started walking toward the table and I followed. When we got close, Valentine looked up, seeing Virgil. He leaned back in his chair and smiled wide. His flashy blue eyes had that flair of being friendly and menacing at the same time.

“Well, Lord have mercy, as I live and breathe, if it’s not Virgil,” he said. “Virgil, Virgil, Virgil.”

“It is,” Virgil said.

Valentine was a handsome man, and like Book had said, he was strong-looking, especially for his age. He was rugged but well groomed, and his beard revealed only a small hint of gray.

“Yes, it is,” Valentine said. “Yes, it goddamn sure is. Look at you, you have not changed a bit, not aged a day since I last saw you. I’ll be goddamn. Been what, twenty years?”

“You looking for me, Valentine?”

“Inadvertently,” he said. “Inadvertently.”

Valentine looked to the six men sitting around the table. A few of them Virgil and I were acquaintances of, but the rest were strangers.

“Gentlemen,” Valentine said. “I’m going to have to remove myself from this game of chance, and I know because of my good fortune, none of you will mind my self styled elimination thereof.”

Valentine held up his cards.

“Would you mind, Virgil,” he said. “Soon as I pocket this last go-around, I’ll be right with you.”

Virgil nodded.

“We’ll be at the bar.”

Virgil and I walked back into the main barroom. We sat at the far end of the bar and ordered two beers from Wallis.

“Coming right up,” Wallis said.

“Well?” I said.

Virgil shook his head a little.

“Something tells me Valentine’s jovial demeanor is just a show,” I said.

“Something’s telling you right,” Virgil said.

“What’s his story?”

Virgil leaned with his elbows resting on the bar and looked to the back room where Valentine sat at the poker table.

“Crooked as a dog’s hind leg,” Virgil said.

I followed Virgil’s look into the back room.

“What do you know about him?”

Virgil shook his head.

“A thief, turned snake-oil salesman, turned liquor peddler to Indians, turned Navy deserter, turned preacher, turned lawman, turned safe cracking outlaw, turned goddamn bounty hunter. He’s... He’s a liar, a thief, a coward... but he can be a brave sonofabitch, too.”

“And by his looks... a pirate,” I said.

“He is at that.”

I looked back to Virgil, who was no longer looking at Valentine but staring at the mug of beer resting on the bar in front of him.

“I never heard you mention him before, but it sounds like you know him pretty well,” I said.

“I do,” Virgil said.

“How so?”

“He’s my brother,” Virgil said.